Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 91

They had searched the woman’s office and found nothing. That wasn’t surprising, since she had officially been fired and had moved out of the space. But when they went through her home in Falls Church, they found nothing there either, and she clearly hadn’t moved out from there. But it was certain she’d left in a hurry, her timetable no doubt disrupted by the fast-acting Secret Service after being tipped off by Stone.

Stone and Chapman looked around one more time through the three-level end-unit town home that had been built in the early 1980s and where Marisa Friedman had lived since the year 2000.

“Ashburn gave me an inventory of what they took from here and it was pretty minimal,” said Stone to Chapman as the latter sat down in a chair and surveyed the room. “But there isn’t one personal photo, no scrapbooks, old yearbooks, nothing to show she had a family. She’s scrubbed herself clean.”

“She’s a spy, it obviously comes with the territory.”

“Even spies have lives,” Stone said firmly. “Much of their history might be invented, but they usually have some personal items around.”

“What do we know about her background?” asked Chapman.

“She was born in San Francisco. Only child. Parents both deceased.”

“How?”

“House fire.”

“You don’t think?”

“She was only four, so no, I don’t think she killed them. Her parents had been wealthy, but the estate taxes took a real bite out of the money, and apparently the relatives who took her in weren’t that generous. They couldn’t deny she had brains, though. She went to Stanford undergrad. Harvard Law School. Then recruited by the CIA. She’s been one of their top field agents for a long time. The lobbying firm façade was a brilliant one. It let her go to places all over the world collecting intel and no one gave it a second thought.”

“Apparently none of your blokes gave it a second thought that she had been turned either. Weaver looked ready to piss in his pants.”

Stone looked around the modest confines of the town home. “Not exactly a mansion.”

“So this is all about money, isn’t it?” Chapman said derisively. “I knew I hated the witch the minute I first saw her.”

“This is all about a lot of money,” said Stone. “A billion dollars can make just about anyone do just about anything and worry about rationalizing it later.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending her.”

“The only thing I’m wondering is when I find her can I keep myself from killing her?”

“Do you mean that?”

Stone turned away from her. “There’s nothing here that can help us.”

“So where do you really think she is?”

“Every airport surveillance video has been reviewed. Every TSA agent questioned. Every piece of paper one needs to travel by air in this country examined. Which leaves car, bus or train. She doesn’t have a car registered to her. A rental car is too problematic for a number of reasons. Bus the same. Besides I just don’t see a near billionaire traveling by Greyhound.”

“Private jet?”

“Checked. Nothing. There are holes in that arena certainly, and we can’t be absolutely sure she didn’t take private wings, but that’s the best we can do.”

“So a train somewhere north, to a big city? You really think that’s it? But if you think she sent a lookalike by train to Miami, it seems like she’d want to stay far away from the train station.”

“Friedman thinks eight moves ahead. She would have run through the analysis you just laid out, figured what we might think and done the opposite.”

“Right instead of left,” responded Chapman.

“Which means getting to her will not be easy. And bringing her in will be even harder.”

His phone buzzed. He answered it. Joe Knox was on the other end.

Stone listened for several minutes. “Thanks, Joe, now if you can put markers on credit cards, cell phones, what? Right, I knew you’d already thought of that. And this is all between you and me, okay? Right, thanks.”

He looked at Chapman. “She’s even better than I thought.”

“What do you mean?” Chapman asked nervously.

“I thought she would have hired muscle from either Eastern Europe or Asia.”

“Okay, so what did she do?”

“She hired a team from each one. Six and six.”

“Why would she hire two teams?”

“Two walls between us and her. And if one team for some reason turns on her or gets paid off by Carlos Montoya?”

“She has another team to fall back on.”

“And if I’m reading her right, she’ll keep each team independent and perhaps ignorant of the other.”

“Outer and inner wall. Classic defensive position,” said Chapman.

“We pierce one with casualties, we have another line to get through. Then maybe we don’t get through at all.”

“And where are these guys right now?”

“The big city to the north.”

“New York?”

“Which means that’s where I’m headed.”

“Where we’re headed,” corrected Chapman.

“Look, I—”

“Right, you don’t have a chance in hell of not taking me with you.”

“This isn’t your fight.”

“Look, that bitch tried to kill me too. So you’re not the only one wondering whether you can keep yourself from pulling the trigger.”